


Castle Walls

by daaeleira



Series: Mirror, Mirror (Earth-645) [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: CONTENT WARNING: csa, CONTENT WARNING: parental abuse, Content Warning: dissociation, F/M, Pre-Relationship, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daaeleira/pseuds/daaeleira
Summary: Steve and Leila continue their investigation into Felix Harker's crimes, which brings Leila into family dynamics that hit a little too close to home.
Relationships: Original Female Character(s) & Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s) & Original Male Character(s), Steve Rogers & Original Male Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Mirror, Mirror (Earth-645) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/800076
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having reached a wall with Felix Harker, Leila and Steve go to talk to his mother. Mommy issues abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter cw: dissociation, child abuse (implied)

_Don't get too close, it's dark inside_

_It's where my demons hide_

**\--Demons // Imagine Dragons**

“We’re done for the day,” Leila says into the camera. “Bring the guards in.”

Felix Harker has been staring at the spot just above her shoulder for the past hour, but now his eyes glance to hers and he smiles. He always has this comic book villain smile, like he knows something she doesn’t. 

Which, to be fair, he does. Which is why she’s been interrogating him for the last week. 

So far, she’s gotten nothing out of him, and today is no different. The problem is that she can’t get him to talk about _anything_. If she could get him to have a conversation with her, she knows she could bring it around and get him to tell him something, probably without him knowing he’s doing it. 

But he won’t engage at all. She’s starting to forget what his voice even sounds like. She’s asked him questions about the case, about himself, his life, about the fucking weather. She’s bribed him with lighter sentences and the chance at a job, if he proves himself. Nothing. 

She meets his eye, tilting her chin up, challenging him. “Last chance,” she sing-songs. 

He just smiles more and turns away as the guards enter the room. 

She sighs and stands up, leaving the room before the guards escort Harker out.

* * *

  
  


“Gotta say,” Steve says when she comes back into the room on the other side of the mirrored glass. “I don’t feel like I’m learning a lot about interrogation.”

“Don’t make me put you in another iceberg, Rogers,” Leila says by way of response. 

Steve’s lips quirk in a smile. 

He’s been shadowing her for the last week, with almost nothing to show for it. She’s spent the entire week sitting in front of Harker, trying to coax him into a conversation, while he sat silently, smiling almost serenely, not even looking at her. Leila is one of SHIELD’s top interrogators, and she knows it; having a witness to her failure is just the cherry on top of the shit sundae. 

Usually, she tries to explain her techniques to him when she’s done, and what she expected to happen. This time she just collapses onto a chair by the table. The room on the other side of the mirrored glass is dark, almost noir-ish. 

“I swear to God,” Leila continues, “I’ve seen international terrorists crack easier than this guy.”

“What happens if he doesn’t?”

Leila looks up. There are a lot of loose ends leftover from Harker’s series of bombings, but most of them have to do with how he broke into a high-security bank without triggering any alarms; how he got ahold of chitauri technology; and--importantly--how he got the personal phone number of a SHIELD agent. Vira’s phone number was on a lower-security system, so it’s not the end of the world, but if Felix managed to get into any of their systems, they need to know how--and who, if anyone, he gave that information to.

She looks back down at the file on the table, flipping through it thoughtfully. “Then we go back to basics,” she says finally. “Do some detective work.” It’s not usually in their job description, but Fury likes cases to be completed by the agents who start them. Granted, she and Steve didn’t “start” the case so much as they were roped into it, but still. 

“So what does that mean?”

There’s only been one moment when Leila got anything close to a reaction out of Harker, and it was when she mentioned his mother. He didn’t say anything as she asked about her, but his body language changed--his jaw tightened, his fists clenched. She pursued that lead for as long as she could, but it didn’t go anywhere, even when she revisited it later. 

“It means,” Leila says, standing up, “pack a bag, and think about everything you know about Felix Harker. Because we’re about to talk to the woman who raised him.”

* * *

  
  


They leave at the crack of dawn the next morning, and the trip back to New York--or rather, the fact that it’s a trip at all--is disorienting. 

Right after Leila’s debrief from the bombing case, SHIELD informed her she was being relocated to DC. In the aftermath of New York, Fury was making some changes, tightening the ship, and wanted his STRIKE agents closer to the Triskelion. 

Sometimes, Leila can pretend that she’s in control. That she works for SHIELD because she wants to, because it’s convenient, because it can help her get what she’s after. And then they ask her to give up her city, the only thing she feels anything close to love for anymore, and it’s like hitting the end of a leash. It’s not a request; she doesn’t have a choice. She doesn’t even have the choice to quit SHIELD altogether, which is frustrating, even when she knows she wouldn’t quit if she could. 

She keeps her apartment in New York, just in case. Just so she has somewhere to go, if she needs to. 

Steve goes over Harker’s file again as Leila pilots the quinjet to Fort Falsworth. Really, the jet pilots itself, but she’s gone through the file so many times at this point, she’s pretty sure she’s got most of it memorized word-for-word. 

“Wait,” Steve says, “this says the system Vira’s phone number was in is the same system you had the watchlist with Harker’s name on it.”

“Right.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Not my fault you didn’t do the reading, Rogers,” she replies. 

Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. “I’m doing it now,” he says flatly. 

“I know, it’s a page-turner,” she says. “We don’t know if he was intentionally looking for himself or not. There’s no reason for him to have known he was on a watchlist.”

“But it’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

* * *

  
  


Linda Harker is, on paper, utterly normal. There’s not much they could dig up about her--no criminal records, no hospitalizations, nothing. There’s a birth certificate from the 1950s, a marriage certificate from 1978, and her husband’s death certificate from two years later, when Felix was an infant. That’s it. 

When they arrive at her house, she’s in the front yard, pulling weeds. She looks up briefly as they approach before going back to her gardening. 

“Mrs. Harker, I’m Agent Whittaker, this is Agent--”

“I know who you are,” Linda says, and pulls off her gloves. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”

She stands up and dusts herself off. “I assume you want to talk about the boy.”

* * *

  
  


“If I knew anything,” Linda says a few minutes later in her living room, flicking the ash off her cigarette into the ashtray next to her, “I’d tell you. But the boy doesn’t talk to me anymore.” She keeps calling him that, _the boy_ , her voice dripping with disgust, and it’s keeping Leila on edge. 

“I wond--” Steve starts to mutter, and Leila steps on his foot before he can finish. 

“It’s a good riddance,” Linda continues, and Leila can feel herself getting lightheaded. She closes her eyes, digging her nails into her knee. “He was never any good, never anything but trouble. And he knew it.”

There was no indication in Felix’s file that he was at all a troublesome kid. Aside from the drunk driving incident, he was a model student. No homicidal triad. 

She digs her nails in harder. 

“So there’s just...nothing you can tell us?” Steve asks. “Nothing unusual happened recently?”

Linda seems to think about this. “One of his little students,” she says, and again, with this disdain, like teaching is something shameful. “The little redheaded boy. Showed up here a couple weeks ago, all in a tizzy, asking for the boy. Said it was for a science project. I told him I haven’t spoken to him in years. Dunno why he’d show up at midnight for a science project. Like I said, trouble. A curse, that boy.”

Leila almost springs from her seat. “We’re done here,” she says flatly, and her voice sounds very far away. It feels like she’s watching the situation play out as a third party witness, like a scene from a movie. She glances down at her hands and manages to unclench them, and sees little crescent moon shapes from her fingernails starting to heal. 

“Thank you for your time,” Steve adds, with no particular enthusiasm. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks as they go back out to the car. 

“I’m fine,” she says absently, as if she’s deep in thought, which she’s not. 

Steve doesn’t argue, but she can tell he doesn’t believe her. 

“Do you need me to drive?” he asks instead. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” she repeats. “I’m driving.” And she’s not sure why she’s so insistent; her aversion to being driven isn’t usually this strong, but she needs to feel in control, just then. 

“Look--” Steve starts as she pulls back onto the road, and she waves a hand to cut him off. If he asks her if she’s fucking okay again she might actually throw up. 

“Don’t press the issue, Rogers.”

“I’m not--” he sighs, sounding mildly frustrated. “Look, I know that woman was a piece of work.”

“I don’t care.”

“You just missed our turn.”

_I don’t care about that either,_ she thinks. 

“So I’ll catch the next one,” she says instead, and he stays silent, but she can feel the tension roiling off him. 

At the next intersection, she makes a u-turn, or tries to. She turns too sharply, and suddenly the sound of the tires squealing and the smell of burning rubber in the air bring her back into her body as she just barely misses the center barrier, all while the guy now behind them--who Steve, she realizes suddenly, tried to warn her about--is forced to slam on his breaks, landing halfway through the intersection. 

Leila sits, shell-shocked--not a familiar feeling for her; she’s usually a good driver--and then turns to Steve, whose expression is inscrutable. 

“Get out of the car,” he says, and it’s that voice she teased him about, the one he used during the invasion. “I’m driving.”

And even if his tone had left room to argue, she wouldn’t have had the energy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all! This brings us to the next part of MM. A few notes:
> 
> One: This plotline is going to contain themes of dissociation, child abuse, and CSA. Nothing graphic. If that makes it unsafe for you to read, but you still want to follow along with the MM plotline, feel free to message me on pillowfort, tumblr, or ffnet (see my profile) and I can give you a summary of what's going on if that will help at all!
> 
> Two: I know I've used that Imagine Dragons quote before don't @ me


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Leila grab lunch and then go try to interrogate a teenager. Try being the operative word, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter cw: dissociation, implied csa

“Okay,” Steve says as they sit down. “What the hell was that out there?”

The deli is small, a mom and pop shop ten minutes from Linda Harker’s house. Steve had stayed quiet throughout the entire car ride there, but Leila could see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to figure out what was going on in hers. She had pretended not to notice the way he kept glancing over at her. 

It’s only now, after they’ve ordered and sat down, that he’s finally confronting her. 

“You know what they say about women.” Leila shrugs. “Can’t drive for shit.”

He looks at her, unamused, but she refuses to continue. If he wants answers, he can dig for them. Doesn’t mean he’ll find them. 

(Because even if she were inclined to share her innermost feelings with the guy, how, exactly, is she supposed to explain that she had an out-of-body experience because some lady was kind of an asshole about her son?)

“Look,” he says. “Something spooked you in there--”

“I wasn’t--”

“I know fear when I see it,” he snaps. “And ordinarily I’d let it go, but we’re partners on this, and you need to tell me if it’s about the case.”

She stares at him.  _ That’s really his baggage? _ He thinks she’s withholding information about the case?  _ Jesus. _

“Whatever you  _ think  _ you saw in there,” she says finally, trying to keep the venom out of her voice, “has nothing to do with the case. You know everything I know.”

He studies her for a long moment. The cook calls out their order. Three foot long breakfast sandwiches for Steve, one turkey sub for Leila. No super-metabolism. She’d ended up giving up the super-soldier serum to pick up a few old standby powers before they left for New York. 

“Fine,” he says as he stands up to get their food. He still has questions, she can tell; she’s just not sure if he’ll ask them. 

They eat in silence for the most part, but some of the tension dissolves as they do, and their silence becomes almost companionable. 

“I have a question,” Steve says when they’re almost done. Despite ordering three times as much food as her, he also seems to be eating three times as fast. 

“I probably don’t have an answer,” Leila replies noncommittally, her walls coming back up. 

“Why did you order pickles specifically and then pick them out when you got your order?”

She blinks--not what she was expecting--and then grins. 

“You really wanna know my diabolical pickle plan?”

He leans back and gestures to her. “I’m all ears.”

“I like the sandwich to have a kind of pickle-ish taste, without the pickle texture,” she explains. “Too crunchy.”

“Wow, that’s brilliant,” he deadpans, and she smiles. 

“Learned it from an old friend.”

* * *

They don’t get back to the case until they’re back in the car, for the sake of privacy. Leila pulls out her phone--Stark Tech, SHIELD issued--and runs a background check on Declan O’Neil, the kid who made the fission generator that Harker sabotaged. 

There’s not much to check. He’s on track to be Midtown’s Valedictorian at the end of his senior year, and as far as they can tell, hasn’t gotten into any trouble--not even a detention in his entire school career. 

“Very few insecurities to exploit,” Leila says thoughtfully. 

“A very reasonable thing to say about a teenage boy,” Steve replies, but there’s no real malice in it. Still, she rolls her eyes on principle. 

“Didn’t Linda Harker say the kid who showed up that night had red hair?” Leila doesn’t really want to go back to their conversation with her, but it’s important. 

“I thought so. Why?”

Leila holds up her phone, showing O’Neil’s student photo. 

Black hair. 

* * *

  
  
  


Declan O’Neil doesn’t know anything, and didn’t show up on Harker’s mother’s doorstep at any point. That’s what he says, anyway, and Leila’s inclined to believe him, given his general body language plus his hair color. 

He does give them a lead, though. 

“If you wanna know who stalked Harker, talk to Cameron Nolan,” he says. “He was the one eating lunch in his classroom every day.”

A quick check with the school confirms that while there’s no Cameron Nolan at the school, there is a Cam _ den _ Nolan, a junior with red hair, who was known among the staff as Harker’s protege.

“Wanna know the icing on the cake?” Leila tells Steve in the car after relaying all of this. 

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

“Harker was helping with Nolan’s science project. Guess what it was.”

“No.”

“It was a barcode that could hack the system that scanned it.”

Steve’s eyes light up in understanding. “That’s how Harker got into the bank.”

“Dollars to dimes, Rogers.”

* * *

  
  


Unlike O’Neil, Camden Nolan’s history is somewhat troubled--a lot of detention, a lot of unexplained absences, and a lot of bullying (with himself on the receiving end)--but it’s nothing compared to his twin sister. 

Maybe it’s because Teresa, going by her grades, doesn’t have the same computer science outlet as her brother, but going over her records, Leila has a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Constant fights, every Saturday in detention (when she bothers to show up), and the pièce de résistance, setting her house on fire a little over a year ago. She only dodged juvie thanks to strings pulled by her wealthy step-father, Richard Harris.

The Harris residence is the quintessential house on the hill. It’s not Stark levels of gratuitous luxury, but the family is clearly well-off. The driveway is three times as long as it should be, the lawn is perfectly manicured, and it’s three stories high--four, if you count the finished basement she’s positive they have. 

Leila raps her knuckles against the door three times in quick succession, and it takes a moment--Leila’s almost about to knock again--before who she assumes must be Anne-Marie Harris answers the door. She’s dressed immaculately, even though Leila knows she doesn’t have plans that night, which means she dresses that way in her spare time--either because she likes dressing that way and public appearances have nothing to do with it, or, conversely, because she’s  _ so  _ invested in public appearances that she keeps them up even when there’s no public around, just in case. 

Anne Marie smiles sweetly. 

“How can I help you two?” she asks. 

“I’m Agent Whittaker, this is Agent Rogers, we’re with the FBI.” Leila knows Steve is uncomfortable with the lie, but thankfully, he doesn’t show it. “We just wanted to ask your son a few questions about his teacher, Felix Harker.”

Anne Marie’s smile tightens. “By all means, come in,” she says with a sort of strained hospitality. 

The parlor opens into a huge dining area adjacent to a gorgeous kitchen. She glances over and catches the eye of a middle-aged man she assumes must be Richard Harris, who smiles and comes to greet them. 

“And who are our guests?” he asks his wife, pecking her cheek. 

“I’m Agent Whittaker, this is Agent Rogers. We wanted to talk to your son Camden about his teacher.”

Richard’s smile fades a little. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to talk to him. He should be upstairs.”

Leila nods. “Just one question for you two, quickly. We have reason to believe that your son visited his teacher’s mother’s house in the middle of the night two weeks ago. Do you know anything about that?”

Anne Marie shakes her head. “No, that couldn’t have been our Camden. He’d never go out like that on a school night.”

Leila doesn’t believe her. 

“Okay,” she says, adopting a variation on Anne Marie’s faux-sweetness. “We’ll just go talk to him then.” 

* * *

  
  


Camden isn’t there. 

They ask a maid where his room is, and it’s empty. Steve, thankfully, doesn’t object when she pokes around a few other rooms; apparently he’s sensing something wrong with the whole dynamic, too. 

“What now?”

“We wait,” Leila says, collapsing onto Camden’s computer chair. “And if he doesn’t show up, we come back tomorrow.”

They spend an hour and a half there, Leila reading comics she found on the kid’s bookshelf (he’s a particular fan of Captain America, she finds), and Steve sitting on the bed, reading something on his phone. 

Finally, checking the time, she stands up. “Let’s go, super soldier,” she says, shifting her weight to the balls of feet to stretch. “I don’t think he’s gonna be here anytime soon.”

Steve sighs and gets to his feet. “What time do we come back tomorrow?”

“It’s Friday night. If he’s out this late, he’ll be sleeping in.”

“So we get here earlier,” Steve says. “Throw him off his game.”

She smirks. “A very reasonable thing to say about a teenage boy.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


On their way out, Richard is in the kitchen again, but he sees them about to leave and comes over to see them out. 

“Did you get everything you needed?” Richard asks. 

“He wasn’t--” Steve starts, but Leila steps on his foot. It’s better that they don’t know. If they find out Camden embarrassed them, he’ll be punished, and less likely to open up the next day. 

“He was very helpful. We’d just like to come by tomorrow morning for some follow up questions…” she pauses as a flash of red catches her eye. Richard follows her gaze, turning around. 

“Tessa!” Richard calls, and the girl jumps, turning around. She looks exactly like she did in the pictures in her file--short, scrawny, covered with bruises. Her eyes are wide and wary as she looks from her stepfather to Steve to Leila. 

She comes over, keeping her step-father at arm’s length, but he reaches over to touch her shoulder and gently pull her closer to him. 

“This is my step-daughter, Tessa. Cam’s twin sister.”

Tessa studies Leila warily, and everything about the scene--Richard’s hand on her shoulder, the way she’s flinching away from him, the way she’s looking at them all like she’s ready for some kind of fight--sends off alarm bells. 

She finds herself splitting again, watching the room like a movie. 

Steve extends a hand. “Tessa,” he says. “I’m St--”

“I know who you are,” Tessa says. “My brother’s obsessed with you.”

“Don’t be shy, Tessa,” Richard says, “we know you’re a fan, too.”

Steve glances at Leila, like he’s waiting for the told-you-so look, but Leila’s too focused on Richard’s hand on Tessa’s shoulder. Her eyes trace his fingernails, the pattern on Tessa’s sweater. 

_ Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  _

“Right,” Steve says, letting his hand fall to his side. “This is--”

“We have to be going,” Leila says. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Thank you for your time.”

She sets a hand on Steve’s shoulder and guides him to the doorway--or maybe it’s her that needs a guide. She doesn’t have it in her to care. 

Right before they leave, Leila turns back, and sees Tessa Nolan watching her with enormous brown eyes from over her step-father’s shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! No real notes here, just, thank you for the feedback, would love to know what you think of this chapter. Love you bye!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leila tries to shoot Steve, and then flirts with him, not necessarily in that order.
> 
> cw: implied csa

Steve has a few seconds headstart, but he stops on the driveway to wait for her. “Leila,” he says when she seems to look right past him, and her eyes snap to him. 

“Hm.”

“You’re talking the way you did at Linda Harker’s house.”

Leila can feel her defenses go up. “I’m not having this conversation again,” she says. God, can’t she just get some quiet? Does this guy ever fucking stop talking? There’s this childish part of her that just wants to cover her ears with her hands and rock back and forth on the ground until everything goes away. 

“Okay,” Steve says, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re fine. I get it. I just wanted to ask if I can drive.”

She studies him, and it’s like she’s trying to find something to be mad about, but she can’t. He didn’t push for answers she can’t give him. He didn’t demand the keys. And he’s not looking at her with pity in his eyes. Confusion, maybe, but not pity. 

She pulls the keys out of your pocket. “All yours,” she mumbles. 

A few minutes later, when they’re on the road, she hears Steve say her name again, and looks up. 

“I don’t know what happened in there,” he says, “and I won’t push. But if you ever do want to talk about...what I think I saw. I’m here. That’s all.”

She watches him carefully. He glances away from the road for just a moment, and he’s so earnest, she almost smiles. God, he’s hard to be mad at. 

“Eyes on the road, Rogers,” she tells him. “This is more of a third mission conversation.”

He smiles wryly and obediently turns his full attention to the road. “Got it.”

She has absolutely no plans on taking him up on his offer. And the fact that he did at all, the fact that he thinks something’s wrong with her, should change their entire dynamic. She should be demanding a transfer by now. It should be infuriating. It should be terrifying.

It’s not that she feels comforted, exactly, but there’s an acute absence, a big gray nothing where her anxiety over Steve should be. Maybe this is how normal people feel all the time, she thinks idly. 

Regardless, she keeps coming back to Richard Harris’s hand on his stepdaughter's shoulder, and to Tessa Nolan’s brown eyes following her out of the house, like their conversation wasn’t done yet. 

* * *

  
  


Leila had been hoping that, like her, Steve had been holding onto his apartment, but apparently it either wasn’t an option (given that it was in SHIELD’s name) or he just didn’t think it was worth it, because he didn’t. She vaguely considers forcing him to get a motel room, just to get some space from him, but decides against it. The mission still has to come first _ \--SHIELD  _ comes first, as they so kindly reminded her when they forced her to leave New York--and she doesn’t quite trust him not to go rogue. 

Besides which, if she’s honest with herself, she really doesn’t want to be alone tonight. 

“I’m going to go get dressed,” she says. She’ll shower in the morning. “You’re taking the couch.”

When she gets out, dressed in black leggings and a tank top, she finds Steve’s changed into a pair of gray sweats and is pulling a blue t-shirt over his head. She can’t fault him for that; there’s really nowhere else for him to change. Leila has always favored studio apartments. She likes to be able to see everything going on. Outside of the bathroom and her walk-in closet (into which he was not invited), the whole thing is one big room. Not that she’s complaining. 

“Sorry,” Steve says when he’s pulled the shirt over his head and sees her.

For a moment she considers not saying anything, but she has a brand to maintain, so she allows herself to glance over him, and smirks. “Oh, don’t be.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. 

* * *

  
  


_ David... _

It’s dark when Leila wakes up, and she’s covered in a thick miasma of sweat trapped between herself and the blankets. It’s this headspace she wakes up into sometimes, where all these walls she’s built between herself and her demons disappear. She’s too afraid to be ashamed of being afraid. 

Given the events of the day, she doesn’t have to guess what whatever nightmare she’s waking up from was about, but the details slip away before they can imprint on her waking memory. All she remembers is the smell of smoke and that  _ damn  _ name, echoing in her mind in her own voice. 

There’s really nothing to be done about these episodes--she usually just waits until she falls back asleep. It doesn’t usually take long, but then--

_ Click _ . She hears the door open, senses light spilling in from the hallway outside, and within a second she’s standing, pointing the gun she keeps under her bed at--

“Steve?”

“Jesus, Leila--”

“Why are you up this early?” she snaps.

“I went for a jog.”

“At--” she glances at the clock--”4 in the fucking morning?”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he says. 

“I was already awake.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He’s holding his hands up in surrender, a white paper bag in one hand. “You wanna put the gun away?”

She stares at him for another moment, mostly just trying to wrap her head around the situation--there’s no danger, there’s no intruder, she’s fine--before lowering her hands with a muttered “Goddamnit.”

She puts her gun away under the bed and then runs a hand through her hair. “I didn’t hear you leave,” she admits, glancing at him as he sets the white bag on the counter. 

“I guess you were out of it,” he says. “I bought breakfast at this 24 hour diner.”

“I’m sure it’s disgusting.”

“You’re welcome. You mind if I use your shower?”

“By all means,” she says, smiling in a way that tells him she’s still annoyed. If it bothers him, he doesn’t show it; apparently running has left him in a good mood. 

And maybe it’s a good thing, in the long run. Her heart rate is still slightly elevated, but other than that she can feel the anxiety subsiding. 

Part of her doesn’t want to go back to sleep, worried she’ll fall back into a nightmare, this time with Steve present and awake. The other part of her is exhausted--the nightmare left her more tired than when she went to bed, and the anxiety and the whole gun incident didn’t help--and wants to get in a few more hours of sleep before they have to leave. Otherwise she might bite Steve’s head off again, and even though he promised not to push, it’s still not fun fighting with him. 

She doesn’t expect to sleep particularly well. But when she lays down, she focuses on her breathing, and the sound of the shower running in the bathroom, and falls into a sleep more peaceful than she can remember having in a long time. 

* * *

  
  


Their plan works; when they arrive the next morning at 8 AM, it’s clear that Camden has only barely woken up. The maid brings him downstairs, and he’s still in his pajamas, hair messy, with dark circles under his eyes. 

“Camden,” Leila says. “Good to see you again.”

Camden stares at her, like he’s not totally sure he’s awake yet, but glances at Steve next to her and seems to decide that playing along is in his best interest for the moment. 

“Uhhhh, yeah. You too, Leila. And Steve. Good morning. Um.” 

“We just wanted to ask you some follow up questions after the questions we asked last night,” Steve supplies helpfully. 

“Right. Yeah. Follow up questions.”

The maid leads them to an empty office that she says Richard won’t mind them using, and Leila immediately claims the spinning chair for herself. Camden chooses the chair across the desk, like he thinks he’s in trouble, and Steve leans against the wall by the doorway. 

“So we’re Leila and Steve now,” Leila says, smiling faintly. “That’s pretty familiar.”

“I panicked,” Camden admits, his cheeks flushing. “Why did you--”

“We came to talk to you last night, but you weren’t here. I told your parents you were.”

Camden studies her, wary now. Clearly not used to random acts of kindness. “Why would you lie?”

Leila studies him in turn, and decides that the best way to reach him is through the truth. “Because I figured that if they punished you, you’d be less likely to talk to us. And we really need answers.”

She can see the exact moment it clicks for him why they’re there--the way his body language suddenly changes, his guard coming up. “About what?” he asks flatly. 

She tilts her head and glances at Steve, watching from the doorway with an inscrutable expression. “You know why I’m here, Camden. So here’s what we’re not gonna do: we’re not gonna lie to each other, and we’re not going to play dumb. Because you’re a smart kid, you’re clearly very independent--” she adds pointedly, and he looks down “--and you don’t need someone like me to condescend to you..”

Camden looks away, staring intently at the floor with his arms crossed. For a brief moment, she remembers Tessa’s body language with her stepfather, and wonders...but no. There’s no shame in Camden’s tells, just protectiveness. Besides, men like Richard Harris don’t get to lie to her anymore. If Felix Harker was that kind of monster, she’d know by now. 

“So let’s start here: I’m gonna tell you everything I know, and then you can decide what you feel like telling me, and we’ll go from there. Okay?”

“Are you going to torture me?” Camden asks, half-sarcastically. 

“No,” Steve says, suddenly appearing at Leila’s side and taking the chair next to her.  _ Smart boy. _ It’s his comics Camden has sitting in his room; despite his guardedness, he might find lying to Captain America difficult. 

“We don’t torture people,” Leila says. “It’s ineffective.”

Camden almost smirks at this. 

“So here’s what we know,” Leila continues, ticking off items on her fingers. “We know Felix Harker was your science teacher. We know he helped you with your science fair project.”

“Which we know was a barcode that could hack the system that scanned it,” Steve adds, and Leila nods. 

“And here’s where we get into speculation: I’m guessing Harker was the only real parental supervision you had, given the fact that your parents didn’t even know you were gone last night. I also know that a high school student with red hair showed up on his mother’s door a few weeks ago in the middle of the night.”

“Wow, you should really find out who that was,” Camden monotones, and Leila bites back a smile. 

“So here’s what we need to know,” Leila says, and she finds herself a little more gentle than she would be with an adult, which is annoying, but hopefully effective. “One, we need to know how he hacked SHIELD’s database--”

“Harker didn’t hack SHIELD,” Camden says suddenly, looking up from the floor. “I did.”

“You did?” Steve sounds skeptical, but to Leila, it makes sense. Camden was the one who created the hacking device.

“Okay,” Leila says, leaning forward. “So why’d you do it?”

Camden shrugs and looks down. 

She studies him for a long moment, tilting her head.  _ He doesn’t know. _ It feels like a million years ago, but somewhere, something about Camden resonates with Leila. It’s easy to think of him as a subject in the abstract, just another puzzle piece in the case, but now the overwhelming humanity of him hits her full force. She knows that look. She knows what it’s like to be so lost and have so little to ground you that you don’t even know why you’re acting out. 

There are probably a myriad of reasons why he did it. A cry for help. An act of revenge at a world he thinks abandoned him. A way to impress the only real authority figure he has. And he might not even be fully aware of any of them. 

“Okay,” she says finally. “We don’t have to go into why. We do need to know how, though.”

“You’re the one with the supercomputers,” he says. “You figure it out.”

“Nice try,” Leila says. 

“Where’s Mr. Harker?” Camden asks, looking up, and Leila wonders what it was that reminded him of his teacher. 

“He’s in our custody,” Leila says. “Safe and sound. I promise.”

“Why don’t you ask him about all this?” Camden asks, sounding wary, like he’s scared of giving them ideas. 

“Damn,” Leila says, “we should’ve thought of that. Steve, why didn’t we think of that?”

“I--” Steve glances from Leila to Camden, surprised at having been called upon. “I don’t know, Leila.”

Leila turns back to Camden, having made her point. 

“So how come he wouldn’t talk?”

“I dunno. He wouldn’t talk, you won’t talk. Maybe I’m just not a great conversationalist.”

“You should work on that,” Camden advises, and she scoffs. 

“We all have our flaws,” she says. “Okay. We’ll swing back around to the ‘how’. But first, though, let me ask you something.” She leans forward just a little. “Do you think you owe it to Harker to keep his secrets?”

He shrugs, looking down again. 

“Do you think I don’t?”

“What I think is that I interrogated him for days and he never said a single word, literally. I’ve seen international terrorists easier to interrogate than him. And I think it’d be awfully hard to maintain that for his own sake, since we offered him lighter sentences. I think there was someone he cared an awful lot about that he wanted to keep from being implicated.”

“What’s your point?” Cam scoffs, and it’s a valid question. 

“My point is that this is serious shit, and Harker didn’t want you involved in it. I don’t, either. But we can’t leave without getting some answers. Besides, nothing you say can make things worse for him. But it might make it easier for us to talk to him, and that might make it easier for us to make it easier on him.” 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s considering it. 

“The server you hacked had personal contact information of SHIELD agents,” Steve says finally, softly. “We know one. Her name is Vira. And we want to keep her safe, just like your teacher’s trying to keep you safe. But to do that, we need to know who has access to her information.”

Cam considers this for a long moment, thinking. Finally he looks up, his arms still crossed. “Okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mentions of csa

Leila records while Camden explains how he hacked into the SHIELD server. She can only follow some of it, but she understands enough to know how exceptional it is for a teenage boy to do what he did. 

As he explains, he starts to come alive a little, like just talking about hacking has brought him back into his comfort zone. 

“And that’s how I did it,” he finishes, leaning back in his chair. 

“That’s very impressive,” Leila notes, because it’s true, and because his entire demeanor is begging for an attaboy, and even if it’s for breaking the law, Leila can tell it’s not something he hears a lot. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t go around hacking intelligence agencies. Who knows. 

Camden straightens up a little at this, but shrugs, like he’s trying to act like it doesn’t mean anything. “I’m good with computers,” he says, and there’s something like hope in his eyes. “Always have been.”

He wants to be recruited. And honestly, Leila can’t find it in her to condemn him for childlike whims when she had the exact same thought. SHIELD doesn’t hire people under 18, but that’s only two years away for him, and as he told her about his hacking, she’d considered coming back for him then. Or having someone else do it, anyway. 

“Okay,” Leila says. “A few more questions. Your teacher’s mother said you showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night a few weeks ago. You wanna tell me what that was about?”   
  


Camden goes red. “I had a fight with my parents,” he says, shrugging. “And Harker wasn’t at home. So I did some digging and found out where his mom lived. I thought he might be there.”

Leila almost smiles sadly. Because of the fact that he was driven out of his own home in the middle of the night, and because Harker, apparently, kept his own troubled family life a secret from his protege. Presumably he figured Camden had enough of his own shit to deal with, and he was probably right. 

“Did you know Harker’s name was in the SHIELD server?” she asks. 

“Literally how would I know that,” Camden scoffs, and then seems to remember himself. He shakes his head. “Sorry,” he says quickly. He’s still trying to make a good impression. Leila can feel a part of her melting. She quickly buries it. 

“No,” he continues. “I just saw his name in it and I thought he should know.”

“So it was a coincidence,” Steve murmurs, and Leila glances at him and nods. 

“I have a question,” Steve continues, turning back to Camden, who seems to sit up even straighter under the gaze of his hero. “Did Harker...coerce you at all into hacking the server?”

Camden shakes his head quickly. “No,” he says. “He didn’t even know I was doing it until I already did.”

Leila glances at Steve to see if he has any more questions. He doesn’t; he leans back, arms crossed, and nods. “Okay.”

“Do you know who else had access to the information on the server?” Leila continues. 

Camden shakes his head. “I only showed Harker. But….” 

But he doesn’t know who Harker showed it to. 

“That’s okay. I believe you,” Leila says. “Do you know how Harker could’ve gotten ahold of chitauri tech?”

“I’ve heard rumors that they’re all over the black market,” Camden says. “Otherwise…”   
  


Leila nods, and considers something. If Harker was looking to score chitauri tech off the black market, he’d need significant cash to do so. More than a school teacher would make. 

A SHIELD server could fetch that kind of money on the black market. 

They ask him a few more questions, trying to jog his memory, but Leila can tell he’s getting frustrated. Hell, she’s frustrated. They came all this way, finally got under his skin, and the kid doesn’t know anything. 

“Okay,” Leila says finally. “If we think of anything else to ask, we’ll contact you.”

“Thank you, Camden,” Steve adds. “I mean it.”

Camden lights up at this, but stays quiet until they’re just about to leave the office. 

“Do you think Mr. Harker’s a good person?” he asks suddenly. 

She and Steve glance at each other, and with one look, he passes the ball to her. He can’t give the kid the answer he wants. 

“I don’t know,” Leila says after a long moment, and it’s not even a lie, really. Who is she, of all people, to decide if someone’s good or bad? “But I think he cares about you a lot.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So that’s it,” Steve says in the hallway, once Camden’s back in his room. “We’re out of options.”

“Maybe not,” Leila says thoughtfully, and Steve studies her. 

“What are you thinking?”

Leila digs her nails into her palms to keep herself from flashing back to wide, scared brown eyes. 

“I want to talk to the sister,” Leila says. “And I want to talk to her alone.”

* * *

  
  


“What do you wanna know?” Tessa asks. It’s alarming, how similar her body language is to her brother--the exact same set of her shoulders as she slumps over, arms crossed, staring at the floor. 

“I think you know the answer to that, Tessa,” Leila replies. “See, I’m guessing Camden told you all about what was happening long before we showed up.”

“So why am I being dragged into it?” She’s still looking at the ground, but she keeps glancing up to meet Leila’s eye, and Leila wishes she didn’t know what Tessa was hoping to find there. 

“There was just one question Camden couldn’t answer for me,” Leila says. “We wanted to know if Harker shared the information on the server with anyone else. And he didn’t know. And I was just wondering if maybe you saw anything?”

Tessa shrugs and looks down again. Leila stays quiet, watching the wheels turn in the younger girl’s head. 

Finally she looks up. “Why should I help you?” Tessa challenges, and Leila knows what she’s really asking.  _ What’s in it for me? _

“You want to live with your older brother,” Leila says, and Tessa sits up straighter. Daniel Fisher, the twins’ older half-brother, was barely a foot-note in their file, and Leila suspects that lack of dirt, that _normalcy,_ is part of the appeal. It’s not hard to figure out Tessa’s angle; anyone in her situation would want an out, and Daniel Fisher is the nearest safe place to land. 

“It’s better than here,” Tessa says noncommittally, but Leila can tell she’s more than interested. 

And Leila’s allowed to lie to her and promise beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’ll get Danny custody of Tessa and Camden, she’s allowed to say almost anything to get what she needs, and she usually does. She probably lies more than she tells the truth at this point, and she should. Not just because she shouldn’t care, but even if she did, there are lives at stake. One girl’s feelings don’t outweigh the lives of multiple SHIELD agents, she’s pretty sure. 

It’s just that Leila can’t forget those eyes. They’re hazel now, but in the lighting when she left the other night, they looked brown. They looked like her own. And now she can’t unsee it. Maybe, in an upside down way, she’s being selfish. 

She’s not sure; she can’t really think it through just then. All she knows is that the smart part of her is telling her to make the promise and then try to follow through, and the rest of her is screaming at her to not give this kid false hope. 

_ Not again. Not again. Not again.  _

A long time ago in a land far, far away, there was another girl who thought she was free, too.

She digs her hands into her palms to ground herself again. 

“I’m not going to bullshit you,” Leila says. “And I’m not going to make you promises I’m not sure I can keep. I can tell you that I’m going to try my best to make that happen for you, and I can tell you I’ll do it even if you don’t say another word to me. And you can choose to believe me or not.” She leans back in her chair. “If there’s anything else you want--”

“There’s not,” Tessa says quietly, and tilts her head to the side, sizing Leila up. Deciding whether to trust her, figuring out what leverage she has left. Calculating. Leila knows that look. 

“There was this dinner party that my parents threw a month ago,” Tessa says finally. “It was this fundraiser for rebuilding New York after…” she waves a hand, indicating the invasion, and Leila nods. 

“I saw Harker there,” Tessa continues. “Just for a second. He was talking to this guy who comes to all my parents’ parties. I don’t remember his name.”

“That’s fine,” Leila says. Once they have the guest list, they can run background checks on everyone on it. “This is actually really helpful. Thank you, Tessa.”

Tessa shrugs, glancing at her. 

“Why didn’t Cam know, by the way?”

“He wasn’t there. He was supposed to be, but they don’t really notice.”

_ Jesus _ , Leila thinks. 

“I just have one more question,” Leila says. 

“Okay.”

“Are you okay?” Leila asks, and it’s sort of like touching a wounded animal to see where it’s hurt. She knows Tessa’s going to lash out at the question, but the way that she does can tell her everything. 

Tessa blinks. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She gets to her feet, like she’s getting ready to run. 

“You just seem….troubled. The fights, the setting your house on fire, you know, normal teenager stuff.”

“That was….” Tessa stammers, overwhelmed. “They started it. And the fire thing was just--why do you care, anyway? You’re basically just a cop, you’re not a guidance counselor. Fuck off.”

Leila glances at her hands, clenched into fists. Tessa seems to realize what she’s doing, because she unclenches them suddenly, dusting her hands off on her jeans. And just barely, Leila can see the crescent moon shapes on Tessa’s palms from her fingernails. 

She holds up her hands in surrender. “Okay,” she says. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I overstepped.”   
  


Tessa shrugs and looks down, receding again. That’s fine. She doesn’t have to like Leila. It’s probably better if she doesn’t. 

“I think we’re done here. I’m gonna go talk to your parents about the guest list, and...some other things.”

“They’re not going to let me go just because you ask nicely,” Tessa says bitterly. 

_ They.  _ Not  _ he.  _ The mom knows.

Leila takes a moment to let the rage quiet down to a simmer before managing a tense smile. “I can be pretty persuasive,” she replies. 

* * *

  
  


“Okay,” Leila says as she sits down across from the Harrises. “This shouldn’t take a long time, I just have a few questions.”

“Of course,” Richard says. 

“Anything we can do to help,” Anne Marie adds. 

Leila glances up at them, trying to make her disdain invisible. 

“Tessa told me she saw Felix Harker at a dinner party you threw a few weeks ago,” Leila says. “Were you aware of that?”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Richard says. “Honey?”

“There were so many people at that party,” Anne Marie says, like she’s admitting something. “It’s possible he might’ve dropped by without us noticing.”

“Right,” Leila says flatly. “Can I get a guest list for the party? Just so I know who Harker might’ve spoken to.” 

“Of course,” Anne Marie says, and excuses herself to go find it. While she’s gone, Leila asks a few more procedural questions, none of which are the ones she really wants to ask. 

_ Why didn’t you know your son was gone last night? _

_ Why didn’t you know he left in the middle of the night three weeks ago? _

_ Why aren’t you worried that your son’s teacher is a bomber? _

_ Why is your step-daughter afraid of you? _

Anne Marie comes back in and slides the guest list across the table to her, and Leila thanks her. 

_ How long have you known your husband was a monster, Mrs. Harris? _

_ How long has your daughter known that you know? _

She glances over the names, and one sticks out to her. Adrian Bianchi. She used to do business with him. Definite connections to the black market. She makes a note to point that out when they file the paperwork for the case. 

“Okay,” she says finally, “one last question.” She looks down at the guest list, as if her last question is written in it. “How long have you been molesting your stepdaughter?”

The air is sucked out of the room. “How dare you,” Anne Marie hisses, and Richard’s face has gone red. 

She lets them shout. She lets them get it out. She lets them implicate themselves with their rage. 

_ “You come into our house--” _

_ “We’ve shown you nothing but hospitality--” _

_ “I would never--” _

“Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Richard demands finally, slamming a hand on the table, like he’s chastising a child. 

Leila smiles serenely. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have made assumptions. It doesn’t matter, anyway.” She stands up, pushing her chair in after her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to give Daniel Fisher custody of your kids, and in return, I’m not going to tell the whole world about what’s been going on in your house.”

“You have no proof!” Richard insists. 

“No. But I have a coworker who’s a literal God. And another one waiting outside that door with a hero myth surrounding him.” She tilts her head. “Who do you think people will believe?”

“We’ll do it,” Anne Marie says quietly, and Richard looks at her incredulously. 

Leila turns her attention to her, and Anne Marie looks up at her with absolute loathing. 

“We’ll let the kids live with Daniel,” she says. “Just get out of our house.”

She starts to leave. “I’ll be following up,” she says, “so don’t think I won’t know if you’re lying.”

“Wait,” Richard says, his voice dark, and she turns and smiles curiously, like a cat playing with a mouse. 

“You know, I’ve heard some interesting things about you, too,” he says. “Some people say that you and your friends are responsible for the greatest damage to this city since 9/11. And you, especially--who knows anything about you? Why the secrecy? What are they covering up for you?”

Leila leans against the doorway lazily, letting him go on.

“Now look,” he continues, stepping closer until he’s right in front of her.. “I may be flawed--” Leila raises a brow at his understatement--”But I’m not the one with blood on my hands. So you can come here, and threaten us, and take our kids away, but don’t you dare judge us, girlie.”

He reaches out, pointing, and shoves her chest with his pointer finger to make his point. 

Leila stares up at him, and then smiles, and grabs his wrist and twists it until he yelps. 

“You’re right,” she says quietly. “I do have blood on my hands. And let me promise you that whatever I’ve done to anyone else is child’s play compared to what I’m gonna do to you if you ever even dream about touching a child again.”

She leans forward, twisting harder until he hisses in pain. “I’ll be watching,” she whispers into his ear. Then she lets go, letting him stumble back, cradling his wrist and elbow. She glances at Anne Marie, who’s staring at her, horrified, and smiles before she leaves. 

* * *

“What went on in there?” Steve asks as they leave through the front door. 

“Just some questioning.”

“I heard screaming.”

“Aggressive questioning.”

“From them?”

Leila rolls her eyes. She keeps waiting for it to hit, the emptiness. She keeps waiting to leave her body, but it’s not happening. She’s aware of everything--the cool summer breeze, the sound of the gravel under their shoes, the emerald green of the lawn. If anything, she’s more awake than she has been in a long time. 

“I might’ve made some parenting suggestions,” Leila says noncommittally. 

“And they didn’t take it well.”

“Not at first,” she says, “but I think I got through to them.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The case wraps up. Fury grants Leila a favor, and asks one of Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw implied csa

“So,” Steve asks in the car, “how’d you know?”

“How’d I know what?”

“I didn’t want to say it in there, but those walls are pretty thin, for a rich guy’s house,” Steve clarifies. “How’d you know what that guy was doing to his daughter?”

Leila sighs. The euphoria is starting to drain from her body now. “Because I’m not an idiot. Next question.”

Steve is quiet for a long moment, and she hates how she can almost hear him trying to put puzzle pieces together. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says finally.

“For what?” she asks, like she doesn’t know. 

“For pushing earlier. I shouldn’t have. Just…like I said. If you ever decide you do want to talk to someone...I’m here. If you want.”

Leila takes a long moment to process this, before looking at him. She can’t really summon enough anger to punctuate her words, so she settles on the lighthearted devil-may-care tone she’s prone to using with him. 

“You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you, Rogers?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Here’s a tip. You don’t know as much about me as you think you do. You need to think more creatively.”

His lips twitch in a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

  
  


Before they leave for Fort Falsworth, Leila insists on a twenty minute detour. “Just one last loose thread to tie up,” she tells Steve. 

When they arrive at Daniel Fisher’s house, Steve starts to get out of the car, but Leila stops him. Ideally, she wouldn’t have brought him at all, but it’s not like she can drop him off somewhere without explaining why. She’s already pushing it as it is. 

It’s a nice little apartment--not ideally big enough for a family about to adopt two teenagers, but she thinks they’ll manage. She knocks and hears a “hang on,” and then it’s a minute before a heavily pregnant Jennifer Fisher answers the door. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, hi. Are you Jennifer Fisher?” Leila asks, more out of courtesy than anything else. 

“Yeah, I am. And you are…”

“My name is Lindsey White, I’m with Child Protective Services.” She hands over a fake ID. “I’m just here to inform you--have you spoken with your in-laws lately?”

A flash of recognition goes off in Jennifer’s eyes. “Yeah, we talked to them just an hour ago. You’re here about the twins, right?”

“I am,” she says jovially. “I just wanted to inspect the house, just as a matter of course.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jennifer says, stepping aside. “Come on in.” 

* * *

  
  


Daniel Fisher is a quiet, unassuming man, but Leila doesn’t think that’s because he’s hiding any secrets. He looks like his siblings, and he works as an accountant, and he seems happy to take in Camden and Tessa, but not so happy as to be suspicious. More relieved than anything else. Leila’s not sure how much he knows, but there’s no way he’s under the impression that his mother and stepfather are good parents. 

He checks out for now, but Leila resolves to keep an eye on things anyway. She’s not sure why; she’s already gone far out of her way for them. Maybe that’s why, actually. Sunk costs fallacy; she’s invested a lot into their safety already. Might as well make sure it was worth it. 

Or maybe, part of her thinks, before she shuts the train of thought down hard--maybe protecting Tessa and Camden Nolan is as close as she’ll ever get to having protected herself when she needed it. 

She gets back into the car ten minutes after arriving. 

“That was quick,” Steve says.

“I’m very efficient.”

“What were you there for?” he asks as he pulls back onto the road. 

“I was following up on one last lead.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Steve says bluntly, and Leila grins. 

“Okay, smart guy,” she says. “What do you think I was doing?”

“I dunno.” Steve smirks. “I guess I’ll have to think about it creatively.”

* * *

  
  


“There’s one thing I can’t put my finger on,” Steve says on the quinjet back to DC. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, I’m sure there’s more than just one thing you can’t put your finger on, Rogers.”

He ignores her. “Why’d Harker do it, d’you think?”

Leila considers this, looking out the window at the world passing under them, and sets her phone down. Her attention has shifted, and she looks at him. 

“I think he wanted revenge.”

“Revenge…?”

“He found out he was on a watchlist,” she clarifies. “I think he was mad because SHIELD could’ve saved him, and we didn’t.”

“How does that lead to blowing up a science fair?”

“I guess Captain America doesn’t know what it’s like to get so mad at the world you just wanna fuck shit up.” Her tone is light, but as she hears her own words she can’t help but think back to the twins, hacking intelligence agencies and setting houses on fire just to feel something. To control something. 

He smiles, that dry almost-smirk he does sometimes. “Now who needs to think more creatively?”

* * *

  
  


“Do you know why I called you in here?” Fury asks that night. 

“Was it the kick-me sign I left on Sitwell? Cause that wasn’t me.”

Fury rolls his good eye. “I understand that you’re interested in working cases involving gifteds again.”

Leila sits up straighter. “Yes, sir,” she says, almost reflexively, and she hates how eager it makes her sound. 

“After your performance in New York, and your efficacy in recruiting Captain Rogers, I’m inclined to let you, on a conditional basis. I’d want to meet with you personally after each case.”

It’s everything she’s wanted since she joined STRIKE Team Delta. It’s the whole reason she chose to join SHIELD instead of fighting their threats. If she plays her cards right, it’s the key to everything she’s ever wanted. Everything she’s worked toward. 

“There’s actually something else I want.” 

She says it impulsively, before she can stop herself. She’s barely even had the thought before the corresponding words come out. If she’s quiet, she knows that deep down, even if she could’ve stopped herself, she wouldn’t have. 

That’s why she never stays quiet. 

Fury looks at her inquisitively; she imagines this is as close as he ever gets to surprised. He tilts his head, gesturing for her to go on. 

“I want Richard Harris on a watchlist. And his wife.”

“Do you think they’re terrorist threats?”

“No. But they’re still dangerous.” 

Leila waits as he studies her, waits for him to ask her for detail, tries to work out what she’ll say, how much of it is hers to tell and how much is not--

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’m trusting your judgment on this. Don’t make me regret it.”

“You won’t,” Leila says, and there’s a part of her that actually bothers to hope that it’s true. 

“In the meantime, I still want you on Gifted cases,” Fury continues, and she can’t help but smile a little. 

_ Finally _ . 

* * *

There’s still something about Nick Fury that puts Steve on edge. It probably has to do with all the secrecy. Steve believes he made the right choice in joining SHIELD, but the whole environment is so contrary to everything about him, he feels like a puzzle piece out of place. 

_ He’s  _ **_the_ ** _ spy,  _ Stark had told him. _ His secrets have secrets.  _

There were no secrets between Steve and his team in the war. The Howling Commandos were almost a hive-mind sometimes. No filter, no boundaries--it was how they managed to act as one. It’s hard to get used to the new dynamic. Something about it just viscerally feels off. 

“Captain Rogers,” Fury greets as Steve walks into his office after Leila leaves. “Thank you for joining me.”

“You called, I came,” Steve says flatly. Fury smirks. 

“I recently spoke to Agent Whittaker about working outside of counterterrorism--specifically, in cases regarding gifteds.”

“I’m sure she was thrilled.”

“I want you on those cases with her,” Fury says without preamble. “And I want you to report back to me on them.”

Steve studies him. “What are you leaving out?”

“I don’t just want your reports on the cases. I want your reports on her. Her behavior.”

Steve’s instinctive response is “no.” He likes Leila. At this point, he considers her a friend, although he’s not certain she’d say the same about him. And it’s not hard to pick up on how much she values her privacy. 

On the other hand, it’s not as though he has much of a choice in the matter. You don’t turn down a direct order from the Director of SHIELD unless you want to get fired, which he doesn’t. Despite his discomfort with certain aspects of SHIELD, it’s more or less the only thing he has going on in his life just now. He doesn’t know what else to do without it, and the thought sends an ice cold shock of panic down his spine. 

And then he remembers their near car crash. And the way she seemed to zone out at Linda Harker’s house. And the way she heard a door open and pulled a gun on him. 

Steve doesn’t think Leila’s hiding anything more than any other SHIELD agent. But he does think it couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes on her, if for her own sake more than anyone else’s. 

And besides, if the time ever comes where he needs to lie for her, he can decide on that then. 

“Okay,” Steve says finally. “When do I start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So this is the end of this plotline. The next one was kind of a bitch to write, and I only just finished my first draft, so it might be a little while before I get back to updating once a week. I hope you'll be patient with me, and as always, I'd love to know what you think!


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